20. What Is Real?
20
What Is Real?
From Barry Wright’s manifesto:
We live in an advanced virtual reality simulation. There is no objective reality.
TESSA
W hen I looked up from the scientific article I’d been distracting myself with, the sun speared through my office blinds right into my retinas. Shielding my eyes, I glanced at the mostly empty parking lot. I dropped my head into my hands. Dammit. I was being a coward.
I owed Dr. Perrell a write-up of the conversations I’d had at the conference, but because the breakfast with Dr. Deng had gotten technical, I needed Oliver to review what I’d written.
Sure, I could’ve emailed it to him. But that would’ve been even more cowardly. I’d wanted to hold my head up high as I handed him a printout to mark up. Show him that his no — multiple nos—hadn’t hurt me. (So what if that was a lie?)
However, I’d procrastinated so long that he was certainly gone for the day.
I stood and stretched, my back creaking from sitting too long. Methodically, I packed my laptop and a couple of scientific journals for reading that night into my satchel. I slipped on my coat and walked down the silent hall to Oliver’s office. It was empty, and the light was off. If he wasn’t in the lab, I’d come back and drop it on his desk. That way, he’d know I’d been brave enough to try to see him.
The lights were still on in the lab. Someone was still working. Clutching my report, I scanned each cabinet, bench, and computer workstation, but no one was there. Had the last person left so recently that the lights hadn’t yet automatically turned off?
“Hello?” I called.
A clunk and a muttered “Damn” answered me. I followed the sound to the supply closet. There was no mistaking the crisp lab coat that stretched across those broad shoulders.
“Hi.” I gripped the report so tightly I knew I’d leave a sweaty handprint on it.
Oliver turned, holding a box of specimen stubs in front of his chest. “Hey. I didn’t know you were in the office today. You missed the lab meeting this morning.”
I rolled my shoulders back. “I was working on my report from the conference. I’d like you to review the section on our breakfast with Dr. Deng. I wasn’t sure I captured the nuances of the scientific discussion correctly.”
“Okay.” He took the report from me. I winced at the smeared ink from my sweaty palm, but he didn’t look at it. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“I guess we should. Do you want to do it tomorrow when West can join us?”
“West?” He swayed backward. “Why do we need him?”
“If you’re going to lodge a formal sexual harassment complaint, we should have someone from HR.”
“Oh my god. No. I only want to talk. To you.”
I willed my shoulders to retreat from under my ears. Although Oliver wasn’t going to have me written up, he surely wanted to talk about something I definitely didn’t want to hash through, like feelings.
He set the box on the floor. It was the only clear surface in the storage closet. “Look, I gave you some very mixed messages on Tuesday night, and I’m sorry,” he said. “I?—”
“Fuck you,” I snapped. “I’m forty-three years old, not some fresh-out-of-college grad who gets confused by ‘mixed messages.’ I came on to you, you didn’t want it, and I apologize for my mistake.”
He shook his head. His too-long hair, hair I’d buried my fingers in when I kissed him, flopped across his forehead. “I did want you. I still do. But I want more than a one-night stand.”
More wrung out my lungs like a dishrag. I struggled to catch my breath. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“Is it?” Behind his glasses, his blue eyes sharpened. “You’re attracted to me. I’m captivated by you. We’re both adults, mature enough to know what we want. I want to get to know you better. I want to know what’s inside there.” He pointed to my chest, where my rusty heart shuddered.
“What if…” I swallowed. “What if you don’t like it?”
“What’s not to like?” he asked, like it wasn’t a rhetorical question, like he really wanted to know.
“Okay.” I leaned against the doorframe. “You asked for it.” I’d never told this story to anyone. So many people had witnessed it firsthand. I searched for where to begin.
“Back when I had my company?—”
“Red Rover,” he said.
“Yes. I met a guy, Harry. He was a hotshot entrepreneur who’d just sold his startup. It was a B-to-B business you’ve never heard of, but it was good money, and he was looking to roll it into his next opportunity. He gave me some advice I thought was valuable. He was British, a few years older than me, and very attractive. I liked him a lot. So I slept with him. And instead of leaving the next morning, he stayed and gave me more advice.
“I thought he liked me, too. Eventually, he invested in Red Rover, and I hired him as my COO. We were partners romantically and at work. He asked me to move in with him, and I did. I trusted him.” My skin was so transparent I knew the burning humiliation showed on it. But I kept going.
“The company was on fire. I was on top of the world. Well, most of the time. I have a chronic condition.” I closed my eyes. Shit, I’d gone this far, might as well reveal the rest. “Endometriosis.” I hadn’t had the diagnosis back in my Red Rover days, and Harry had dismissed it as me being dramatic about PMS until he’d been able to turn it to his benefit. I checked Oliver’s face for a reaction.
His eyes widened, and I saw the pieces click into place.
“Before and during my period, the fatigue was almost debilitating. It was why I’d started the delivery business to begin with. So I, and other people, people with chronic conditions or disabilities, could get what we needed without an exhausting trip to the store. So we didn’t have to cook if we weren’t able. Turned out, it appealed to a lot of people. Our valuation went through the roof.
“Harry suggested selling while the company was at its peak. We’d all seen what happened when the dot-com bubble burst. So I…” I stared at the box on the floor. “When he came to me with a buyer, I was flat on my back with a worse-than-usual flare-up. He said we had to move fast or we’d miss the opportunity. He said I could take it easy and stop working so hard. And I…I was exhausted. I agreed.”
I had to pause until I got my trembling lip under control. Finally, I looked up. His expression was neutral. At least he wasn’t visibly judging me, not yet. “Harry assured me the buyer would take care of the employees, that nothing would change for them. I t-trusted him. I didn’t do more than skim the contract before I signed away control. But he lied for his benefit and, he said, mine. It wasn’t good for the employees. The buyer took away their benefits, their healthcare.”
“You didn’t know.” It was nothing earth-shattering, but at least he’d finally said something.
I had to clear my throat. “I should have. I should’ve slowed things down and consulted an independent lawyer. I shouldn’t have trusted him. Not with my company. And definitely not with my feelings.” I felt my lip curl. Those feelings had made me weak. Vulnerable. Things I hadn’t allowed myself to be for years. “He told me we should enjoy the payout together. Go to South Africa or Tuscany or fucking Antarctica. But I couldn’t celebrate. Certainly not with him after I saw what we’d done.”
“What’d you do instead?” he asked.
“I took the coward’s way out. I quit. I moved into my own place, and I hid from the press, from everyone, waiting for people to forget. I set up a foundation to help the employees.” I stared him in the eye. “It wasn’t enough. I should’ve stayed and fought. But I didn’t. That’s what’s wrong with me. That’s what you won’t like.” I whispered the last part, and thank god I was leaning against the doorframe. It was the only thing keeping me upright.
He stepped closer and put a gentle hand on my sleeve. “You were young, and you got bad advice.”
“I wasn’t much younger than you are now.” My words were tough, but I let his hand remain on me. It felt…nice.
“I had a better partner than you did. Better advisers. I was lucky.” He stepped fully into my space.
His shoulder was so solid-looking and inviting. And after all that emotional vulnerability, I wanted to hide my face in it.
I’d told him how a workplace affair went terribly wrong. How it haunted me for a dozen years. I shouldn’t let myself fall, not again.
He hadn’t judged me for my massive mistake. He’d tried to rationalize what I’d done. And I was so tired of being alone, of never letting anyone in.
So I laid my cheek on his shoulder.
His other arm came around me, peeling me off the doorframe and offering me the kind of comfort I hadn’t felt in a long time. I relaxed into his body and let my hands rest on his hips.
“I didn’t know about all that,” he said into my hair. “I thought…”
“You thought what everyone else did. That I didn’t care.”
“But you did care. You still do. The foundation. All your other charitable causes. And now you’re doing something for people who are sick, to prevent their suffering.” He stroked my back, and I melted into him.
I turned up my face to meet his gaze. “I’m no hero, you know. I’ll always be trying to make up for what I didn’t do back then.”
“That’s all any of us can do. We do our best today.” He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there until I felt my facial muscles relax.
“You’re an apologist,” I muttered.
“I’m a fucking supporter,” he said, moving his lips to my temple. “Haven’t you ever had one of those before?”
“Sure. My mom. My girlfriends, when I let them. But never a guy.”
“Let me be that guy, Tessa.”
I was tempted by the way he held me, protective and giving at the same time. He’d heard the worst of me and was unshaken. Maybe I could trust him to do the right thing, let myself go with him.
“Wait.” I pulled back a fraction. “What are your thoughts on universal healthcare?”
“What’s not to love about universal healthcare? I want everyone to have access to the tests and treatments we develop here. I don’t mind working through some red tape to get it to them.”
“My god, you’re perfect,” I murmured. I tipped up my face until only an inch of air separated our lips. “Kiss me.”
His lips crashed onto mine, his regular caution gone. This was nothing like our exploratory kiss in the hotel. His evening stubble rasped across my skin while his tongue invaded me, silky-soft but insistent.
I took it all and gave it right back. I raked his scalp with my short fingernails, tugging at the roots of his hair as I took my turn and tasted him. One of his hands left my back for a moment, then I heard the click of the door a moment before he pressed me against it.
“There’s no one else in the building,” I murmured, smiling against his lips.
“The cleaning staff could come in. Better safe than sorry.” He nipped my earlobe.
“God. Why is that so hot?” I slid my hand down the buttons of his lab coat and cupped the bulge at the front of his trousers.
Hissing, he grabbed my hand and pinned it to the supply closet door. His hand trembled like my pulse.
“Are we really doing this?” His breath gusted against my ear.
“Will you regret it if we do?”
He stared into my eyes so long I thought he’d say yes. He’d pull away, yank open the door, and run the way he had at the hotel in Vegas.
Instead, he dropped to his knees.